


What Makes a Hero?

by blue_telephone



Category: DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Identity Reveal, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Secret Identity, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_telephone/pseuds/blue_telephone
Summary: Fame? Action figures? TV appearances? Sacrifice?Here's a quick introduction to one of my favorite original characters...





	What Makes a Hero?

"We are gathered here today to recognize the prolonged efforts of someone very special in our community," Mayor Christina Brown's voice booms through the town square. Her hands are clasped tightly to the wooden podium ahead of her, lips just a few inches from the microphone. She looks to her right to smile at a man clad in a blue suit and mask, searching for his signature arrogant grin - but that never comes. Assuming he's merely nervous to accept this award, she returns her attention to the vast audience and cameras in the crowd.

"Since 2015, Blue Boy has been serving as a hero for all of us. That same year, he extinguished the large fire in Greenwood Apartments, saving dozens of lives." The people clap, including a few grateful survivors that cheer on his efforts. "Let's not forget when a commercial airplane's engine failed, and he held up his hands and used his miraculous telekinesis to stop the plane from turning into rubble on our streets. Or when he saved my own daughter from a bus crash downtown."

As the Mayor continues on, the hero absently looks out to the crowd. The sound of his own heartbeat between his ears begins to drown out any praise. Of course he's grateful, but the sacrifice he's about to make is eating away at him. No one can see the invisible truth to his anxiety: a loaded weapon pressed firm to his spine and Mirage, a long-standing foe, holding the figurative key to a secret identity that Blue Boy has maintained for years. Despite turning herself and the weapon transparent, he almost _feels_ that her lips are pulled into a perfect proud smile.

This is the agreement that they had come to only a few hours prior. When Blue Boy takes the stage to accept his award, he must finally reveal his true identity. In exchange, Mirage will deactivate the chain of explosives she's had rooted beneath the city, waiting months for the opportune moment to cause the ultimate chaos. Now she's simply ensuring that he holds up his end of the deal.

Blue Boy has barely realized that Mayor Brown has finished introducing him until she steps to the left of the podium, waving him in to take her place. The public is going wild, some begging for a speech as a security guard brings forth an engraved golden plaque. Exchanging gratitude with a 'thank you' and a smile, blue gloves grasp the award as he leans toward the microphone. Taking in a deep breath, he steadies his composure, focusing on the familiar faces of the people that truly do matter to him.

"Ten years. How many of you were aware that I've been running around in spandex for ten years?" he begins, voice holding a respectful confidence that causes the world to pause and listen. This certainly isn't Blue Boy's first public speech, but something about his tone (not quite as jubilant and carefree) and the way his facial features tighten indicate that something is different this time. "I was _eighteen_ when I received my powers. The Jupiter Labs accident created me and many of the other super-powered people that hide under different masks. I didn't know what the hell I was doing then, and I'd like to say that I know what I'm doing now, but who's to say?" He pauses to smile, white teeth bright under the stage lights.

"Y'know, when I was younger, I really struggled to figure out who I was. I thought that maybe getting my powers would fix it all - that maybe _this_ ," he gestures to the blue skin-tight suit with a laugh, "was my purpose. In some ways, it is. There have been far too many moments when I've forgotten to hold onto my day job or the ones I love, running too blindly toward putting this suit back on to try to stop a criminal or save a life. When I first took this up, I wasn't _doing it_ for the right reasons. I didn't follow up with those of you who were hurting or ask what you really needed from me. News articles, fans, TV programs, fame: that's what I wanted."

The molecular telekinetic pushes off the podium and takes the microphone with him, long legs striding to the front of the stage - perhaps less professional, but it certainly garners the attention that he wants. Maybe he hasn't fully grown past that side of himself after all. "Sure, keeping people safe always mattered to me. It matters to so many of us. We don't want to see our mothers, sisters, and brothers suffer when there's something we can do to stop it. But if someone were to put my life in genuine danger back in those days, I would run. I _did_ run. It took me years to truly grasp the weight of my position here. I helped people, but not really. I messed up. After seeing the true torment that was going on in this city, I turned into someone who would lay down my life for anyone here today. I went from a kid who wanted the world to a man who was responsible for holding it upon his shoulders."

A quiet agreement falls across the crowd as Blue Boy momentarily hangs his head, lips pursed as he searches for the next right words. "Don't get me wrong - I love the award," he briefly looks back to the Mayor, who offers him a smile in return, "and the interviews and the figurines, but I didn't deserve it back then. I don't even know if I deserve it now, but I do know one thing."

In a pause, he takes in a deep breath.

"A hero isn't born. He's manifested and shaped by the people around him. At this moment, I would do absolutely anything to keep you all safe. You've all given me so much, and it's only right that you get the same in return. That's why it's time for me to tell you this..."

Calloused fingers grip the microphone tight while his other hand reaches up, swiftly removing the blue mask (with a built-in voice modulator) as he shakes out brunet hair. He's bombarded by camera flashes as the media catches every moment, the crowd mixed with stunned and elated surprise. The hero raises his voice to ensure that he's audible over the clamor.

"My name is Ashton Fowler, and I'm a chemistry teacher at Eastwood High School. I love helping my students on a daily basis, and I even see some of them here today." He gives a wave to some _very_ confused teenagers in the front rows. "I play guitar in a local band called the Golden Flight. I hate little dogs and love theater. I'm sure the journalists will uncover the rest."

The telekinetic fixes the mask back over his eyes, as if for comfort in uncharted territory, as he turns on his heel to leave the stage. He hands off the microphone to a rather flustered Mayor Brown, heading down the steps of the stage and onto the bustling concrete. As the invisible force looming behind him eases with satisfaction, there's a new calmness about his shoulders, even in the face of flashing lights and a thousand voices.

This is the day that Ashton Fowler's life will be forever changed.


End file.
